


Wireless Connection

by cognomen



Series: Cognomen's List of Things that Aren't Snakes [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Complete, February Ficlet Challenge 2019, Gen, for reese stalking is an overture toward friendship, shortform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen
Summary: It gets to be that Reese is used to the little voice in his ear, a constant sensation of weight from the earpiece.February Ficlet Challenge, Day 1 - Telepathy





	Wireless Connection

It gets to be that Reese is used to the little voice in his ear, a constant sensation of weight from the earpiece. It isn’t always active—gives a little warning tone before Finch’s calls automatically connect. Somewhere along the months of this connection, as they save people and John builds something new out of himself (or the tendons and wires and bones of himself) John begins to anticipate it.

The little rush of satisfaction he gets when the tone sounds and is followed by Finch’s faintly irritated tone is enough to make it worth it, even if Finch knows what John’s up to.

“The fact that you answered so quickly at this hour, Mr. Reese, suggests to me that you know very well that I don’t approve of your current activities,” Finch says, in his best version of nasally irritated.

“Just going for a walk,” Reese answers, well aware he’s circling too close to where he’s guessed Finch lives for Finch’s comfort. He tries to keep things smooth, paving over his trespass.

“Strange place for a walk, since you live across town,” Finch says. Of course he’d arranged it that way. “And a strange time, too. Couldn’t sleep?”

“How’d you guess?”

Finch pauses, and the anger breaks off of his tone the way it always does when he’s figured out something new about a person. “It’s like I can read your mind.”

It  _ is _ almost like a form of telepathy, Reese thinks. A little familiar voice only he can hear, and the way Finch seems to always either know or anticipate his movements. LIke Finch is right there in his thoughts.

“I might just believe that,” Reese says. “Can you tell me what I’m thinking now?”

“Mr. Reese, if all you wanted was company, you didn’t have to come skulking around my doorstep.  _ You _ could have called  _ me. _ ”

“That’s close, but not quite right,” Reese says, feeling the tickling curve of amusement in his belly. “But I’ll give you two more tries.”

There’s a long, ponderously heavy sigh that translates into an actual sensation in John’s inner ear, provoking an answering shiver in his frame; flickering like a horse to rid itself of a fly. 

“Why,” Finch stresses the ‘h’ sound hard, to indicate how put-upon he is, “don’t you come up, Mr. Reese.”


End file.
